


Danseur

by Oh_i_swear



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anal Sex, Ballet, Flexible Bucky Barnes, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, No condom used, POV Steve Rogers, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Smut, Top Steve Rogers, Unprotected Sex, ballet dancer bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_i_swear/pseuds/Oh_i_swear
Summary: Falling over the constant supply of dance school items in his apartment has only been one of the problems that teacher Steve Rogers has had since moving in with his ballet teaching roommate Bucky a couple of years prior.The main one is actually the huge crush he has on the man, and the fact that he seems to think their apartment doubles as extra practice space which doesn't make Steve's life easy... especially when Bucky decides that Steve is in need of dance lessons himself.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 49
Kudos: 194





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this one has a couple of big thank you's before we start - firstly to everyone's favourite prompt machine [ Kalee60](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalee60/pseuds/Kalee60) who really got me thinking about Ballet! dancing Bucky, and also to [ Bex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/becassine) for beta-ing this one.
> 
> But yes, this is a one-shot that got too big featuring Ballet! dancer Bucky and his long suffering crush-harbouring roommate Steve Rogers. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy <3

Walking in through the door of his apartment, Steve immediately nearly managed to immediately trip on a gym bag. He grumbled, resigned, because this wasn’t the first time that this had happened. Nor was it the second, or even the third. At least once a week Steve nearly broke his goddamn neck tripping over a gym bag, or a pile of gym washing or, you know, ballet shoes.

It was the peril, Steve supposed, of having a roommate who was one of the owners of his own dance studio.

“Buck?” he called, toeing his office shoes off and rubbing his eye up and under his thick framed black glasses. “You home?” he asked. 

“I’m in the living room, Steve!” A voice called back, and Steve followed it, wandering through the apartment hallway and past the kitchen in his socks. The sight that met him in the living room… well. It was the thing that for Steve, a very gay man, that just about made up for all the gym wear and ballet paraphernalia around their home. 

Bucky was _stretching_ and it was fucking _glorious_ , even if Steve knew that watching this was doing absolutely nothing to quash the ridiculous and he was sure fairly obvious crush he had on his roommate who wouldn’t look at him twice in that sort of way. 

“Oh, I uh… hi. I’m home.” He said, mentally wincing from how goddamn awkward and moronic that sounded even to his own ears. He really might as well have a neon flashing sign above his head announcing his crush on the man, honestly, because anything like this sent him into mute mode or worse, giggling schoolgirl. 

Bucky grinned from his position on the floor, legs spread akimbo in what Steve now knew to be a second position stretch, not that he had any chance of getting into that himself. Unlike Bucky, Steve was… less than athletic. 

However, what the position actually served to do on Bucky was to highlight his toned thighs, which were currently encased only in grey dance tights which accentuated the shape and muscle and the length of his long, strong legs, the tautness of his stomach and waist, the muscles of his shoulders and biceps and actually, just how fucking _flexible_ the man was. It really wasn’t fair. 

Carefully and with practised grace he swivelled, shifting his body so that it was facing the leg in front of him, his toes pointed perfectly even in the absence of dance shoes. “So I saw.” he replied, speaking directly towards his own ankle as his head was bowed towards it.

“I… yeah.” Steve agreed, again mentally slapping himself in the head. Really, how it was even possible to be this awkward with a man he literally lived with and therefore saw every day, he had no idea. “Um, good day?” he asked, wondering if he really should be looking somewhere else, but Bucky’s arm muscles rippling below the sleeveless shirt he was wearing were far too obvious and Steve was far too weak. 

“Yeah, pretty much. Just… you know. Limbering up. Nat and I have the seniors class tonight, it’s Thursday.” he said, and Steve nodded. He did at least know Bucky’s schedule. 

On Thursdays he had his ‘early morning’ which started at 10AM (Bucky was _not_ a morning person by any stretch of the imagination) with his ‘Silver Swans’ class, aimed at retirees who did ballet for the flexibility and the exercise (and probably to ogle Bucky himself… not that Steve could begrudge anyone that), then taught a lunch class at one of the local colleges as an enrichment course, an early afternoon class of Mommy & Me ballet for Tiny Tots, and then his Starlette Class for 7-8 year olds. Whilst that made for a busy day, especially when topped with the Seniors later, none of the earlier offerings had shit on them. They were the ones most likely, according to Bucky, to have any sort of career in dance later and their curriculum was what most kept him, and his business partner Natasha, in shape. It was why he stretched so much beforehand.

“Mmm, well, you wouldn’t want to go pulling any muscles again, would you?” Steve asked, watching as Bucky shifted again, reaching his arms out straight in front of him on the floor and flattening his spine as low to the ground as he could get it. Steve was well aware that if he had even slightly less restraint, his mouth would probably be watering. He supposed he should thank the heavens for small mercies.

“Ideally not, but at least I know you give the best free massages in Brooklyn, Stevie.” he said, holding the position for a few more seconds before moving into a (thankfully and disappointingly) much more upright position. 

Steve rolled his eyes at that. “Well, my skinny little fingers had to have some use.” he replied, watching as Bucky shifted his head side to side in a clear bid to stretch his neck out now. 

“Shut up, you draw better than anyone else I know. Either way, if I do myself in, I’m taking you up on it. Ain’t getting any younger, need to try and look after myself.” he said with a grin before finally standing up. “Right, I’m gonna head out - want me to pick up food on my way back?” he offered.

“Only if it’s shrimp lo mein.” Steve replied and Bucky nodded. 

“I know, and a side of broccoli, I gotcha. I’ll make sure I get the little tiny ribs that you’ll pretend not to want then eat half of anyway, too.” he said with a smile, heading the way Steve had just come in. “See you in a bit.” he added and Steve nodded in response. 

“See you.” he agreed, listening to Bucky grab the full gym back, slip his sneakers on and the door open and then slam shut behind him. 

He sighed. Sweet torture, that’s what this was, and he was going to go and indulge himself in a damn good hot shower now he had the place to himself, and if he happened to think of certain roommates whilst he was in there even when he very much shouldn’t, well, that was his business and besides, he’d deny it to the grave.

*****

When he was done and comfortably in his pajamas, Steve moved around the apartment picking up things that were in places that they weren’t meant to be and tidying them up. Things which included but were not limited to a phone charger (his), a pair of socks (also his), several hair ties (Bucky’s) and also an additional pair of dance shoes (no prizes for guessing whose _those_ were). 

Taking the offending shoes and hanging them by their ribbons on Bucky’s bedroom door, Steve couldn’t help but smile about the irony of the situation once again. If anyone visited the apartment, they were sure to assume that the ballet gear in there belonged to Steve. He was 5ft4, skinny and very definitely gay. 

Bucky meanwhile looked like he belonged in an underwear catalogue as a model or possibly on some sort of professional sports team, standing at six feet with broad shoulders, bulging biceps and a generally toned body (and that was before the aforementioned thighs that very definitely did _things_ to Steve) and had a charm-your-pants-off smile without even trying. Steve knew he was bisexual, but he also knew that Bucky loved bringing a girl home to the apartment (tthough he had noticed it was never a guy) and he knew how to fix his own car when it broke, along with just about any item in the apartment - going by stereotypes, he just didn’t _seem_ like the type to own a ballet studio. 

And yet, what Steve had learned in the two years he’d been living here with Bucky was that ballet dancers were hard core. 

Bucky trained every day of the week. He did strength exercises, making sure that his legs, arms and core were capable of doing what he needed them to do. He danced five to six days a week, teaching classes and taking personal sessions alongside Natasha just to enjoy the art without instructing. It was clear how much passion he had for it, and Steve loved seeing it. It was the same way he felt about teaching himself, though he taught elementary rather than dance. He’d asked Bucky once why he taught rather than dancing professionally, and he understood when the man explained it was for the love of sharing the thing he loved – and for wanting a more stable lifestyle having done professional performing for a few years already. 

He admired it, and he was jealous of the physique Bucky had he could never hope to emulate, but what he was _not_ jealous of was the aches or injuries. 

Bucky’s feet, when they weren’t covered with socks or shoes, were often bruised, blistered and rubbed. He often took long showers or even baths with Epsom salts which Steve had read on the packet that sat in their bathroom were good for aches and pains caused by sport or exercise. Some days he would come home and stretch himself silly (and really test Steve’s restraint in the process because he _insisted_ on doing in their living room rather than his own bedroom) only to get up the next morning still looking a little stiff and awkward. 

It was then that Steve would almost unerringly offer to give a back rub, or a leg massage or a foot rub, and in the time he’d been living here with Bucky apparently he’d gotten good at it. It probably had something to do with the fact that Steve had taken to researching thoroughly how to do it properly with minimal risk of causing more damage, but thankfully Bucky was not aware of that little nugget of information. 

For his part, Bucky always seemed grateful for Steve’s efforts and thanked him profusely, and the added bonus was those _noises_ he made whilst Steve worked. If Steve wasn’t already aware of what Bucky sounded like when he came - what? Their apartment had possible the least soundproof walls in all of NYC and dudes jerked off… or brought their conquests home if they were Bucky - then the noises he made when Steve’s fingers got into just the right spot would give his imagination plenty to work with… not that he really needed that if they were being completely honest.

Steve wandered into the kitchen, gathering the few plates and dishes that were scattered and loaded them into the dishwasher, adding the soap and salt before pressing the start button, hearing the water fill the thing as it chugged to life. Deciding that was enough for one evening, Steve wandered back to the hallway, picking up his own bag again and retrieving a bunch of art history essays he’d brought home to grade and settling himself onto the couch to do just that. 

He was actually pleasantly surprised to find that some of his students had clearly enjoyed writing about the evolution and history of their favourite styles of art, and it showed in their essays which weren’t as dishwater-dull as he’d been anticipating. He’d set this same assignment a couple of years ago and regretted it as soon as it came to grading and as such had been reluctant to give it another try, but he was very pleased to find he’d been proven wrong. His favourite had been one on the evolution of pop art, which was a style close to the comic books he’d enjoyed growing up and he’d been more than happy to give it an ‘A’ grade even if he was being completely objective about it. 

“Hey Stevie, I’m home! And I have the food as promised!” Bucky called, and Steve could hear him shuffling in the hallway before wandering back into the living room. He looked a little more bedraggled than when he left, though in an almost artful way, some of his hair loose from its bun and falling around his face like it had been styled just so rather than being accidental. Damn him and his photogenic being in general. 

“Hey Buck, good class?” he asked, rubbing the side of his face and pushing his glasses back up his nose in a well practised motion and scrubbing a hand through his mop of blond hair. 

Bucky hummed and nodded, before ducking into the kitchen. “Yeah, real good. They’re really coming along, you know? Beer?” he offered, sticking his head around the living room door as he did.

“Um, thanks.” Steve said, realizing he only had the one paper to go anyway and then he was actually free for the evening. Whoever said that teachers only worked during the school day was very, very wrong and Steve had realized fairly early on in his teaching career – not that he’d swap it for the world.

Bucky came back then, emptying the various containers of Chinese food onto their coffee table and handing an opened bottle of beer over to Steve who leaned back, tilting his head from side to side to release any tension in his own neck before leaning back. “Good, glad to hear it’s going well even if I can’t even really pretend to understand what you do.” he admitted with a grin.

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t much different to what you do, Steve. Not when it comes down to it. You teach them to make art with pencils and paint, we just teach them to do the same with their bodies and movements.” he said, and really, Steve rather felt that was oversimplification of the highest order, but he would take it. 

“I guess.” he said noncommittally as an answer before taking a swig of his drink. 

“Nothing to guess at - I couldn’t do what you do.” he said with a shrug, and already Steve was ready to argue that what Bucky did was far, far more difficult when it came to it. “Trust me, the stickmen I draw on the grocery list should tell you enough.” he said with a snort, and Steve shook his head.

“You just haven’t applied it.” He replied, still a firm believer that once their preferred style and medium had been found, anyone could become an artist. Hell, macramé and crochet were art, and besides that, art was in the eye of the beholder. Dancing had form, rules to follow.

“Same could be said about you.” Bucky replied evenly. “When was the last time you tried to dance?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “What Nat and me do with ballet is one thing, but it’s really fun just to dance in the goddamn living room in your underwear some days. Perhaps you should try it.” he said with a teasing glint in his eye that both did wonderful squirmy things to Steve’s stomach and made his brain leap to inappropriate places thinking about walking in on _that_ particular show.

“Hardly my style.” Steve said, well aware that he needed to say _something_ , even if his offering wasn’t particularly verbose - but then again, why break the habit of his own room occupation? Instead, he busied himself with getting the food open.

“I still think it’d do you good. You’re a feisty little thing, I bet you got some rhythm.” he said, before knocking back the rest of his beer and joining Steve on tackling the table full of food. 

*****

It was a week or so later and Steve could hear Natasha’s measured voice coming presumably from the living room as he entered the apartment. She was speaking French, which probably meant that their lounge had become extra practise space once again. “Ballotté, et fin.” She finished, and whatever had happened, Steve could only assume that it was good because she sounded pleased.

“I don’t know what you were worried about, James. That was more than fine. And your lines were exemplary.” She said simply. As Steve entered the communal space, he could see her standing to the side of the room, hands on her hips and still wearing her leotard with a dainty wrap around skirt around her waist. 

“Sorry, am I interrupting?’ Steve asked lightly, standing at the doorway and fully planning on heading straight to his room and not disturbing if necessary.

“No, we’re done.” Natasha replied decisively as Bucky began to stretch himself out and cool down following whatever they had been doing. “Besides this is your home and we have a whole studio that James could be practising in, he’s just been worrying about his timings and finishes on a particular routine.” She explained, and whilst Steve appreciated that she didn’t treat him like some sort of idiot when she was speaking in dancer, he very much could use some extra context sometimes. 

“We do.” he agreed, before saying something quietly in Russian to Natasha who responded in kind before switching back to English, presumably for Steve’s benefit.

“Steve, I have to say - please don’t let him do anymore tonight. He’ll only end up straining himself and we could all do without that.” She said, giving Bucky a somewhat icy warning look as she did so.

“Stevie takes good care of me when I manage to do that stuff, Nat. Not that I’ll be doing it deliberately. I’ll take a restful night.” He promised, though even Steve privately wondered if he was just agreeing to get Natasha off his back for now. 

“Oh he does, does he?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at the pair of them and Steve wondering exactly what she meant there. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Good luck Steve, and please do call me if you need back up. For whatever reason I _do_ actually care about this idiot.” She said, and with that she was sweeping out of the apartment.

“She’s… kind of terrifying, isn’t she?” Steve asked lightly with a small grin. 

“She’s intense. She’s good though, real good. And fiercely loyal.” Bucky admitted with a small smile. The way he was about Natasha, Steve had once wondered if there had been anything between them, but apparently not. They were just really, really close friends, it seemed, having been through dance school and a Russian exchange programme together and somehow come out still talking to one another.

“Well, for my sake, can you just do what she says?” Steve asked, wondering if this was the right way to go about it but deciding that it was certainly worth a try.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna go and shower, then how about we watch some crap from your Netflix queue?” he offered, and Steve nodded with a grin.

“Is it a pizza night, or are you behaving on that, too?” he asked, hoping it was the former rather than the latter. 

“What do I look like to you? We’ve no competitions or shows coming and I’mtoned enough - make it an Angelo’s pizza though, would you?” He asked, already heading towards their bathroom once again.

“Yeah, I know, thin and crispy base, meat feast with extra sausage and hot sauce with a side of garlic bread.” Steve said, rolling his eyes as if he hadn’t been given Bucky’s pizza (and every other take out variety in their little slice of the city) order a dozen times already during their cohabitation.

“You’re a doll, Stevie. A peach.” he said, giving him a wink and leaving Steve wondering again how this man could so easily disarm him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are for Chapter Two, and things start to ramp up a little here! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy Steve's first dance lesson more than he does ;)

“You’ve got that face.” Steve said suspiciously, looking Bucky over where he was sitting on the couch and for once in his life not doing anything active. He looked… kind of pouty and like he might be feeling sorry for himself. Bucky had these expressive eyes, and it was so easy to tell when he was essentially sulking, which Steve was certain was the case right now, even if he looked a little more spaced out and glassy than he usually did.

“What face?” Bucky asked as if he didn’t even know. 

“The face when something has happened and you’re feeling sorry for yourself. What is it this time?” He asked, standing with his hands on his hips in front of the man as if that would make any difference. 

Bucky smirked at him, almost proving to Steve exactly how much his little show of indignant mood was making any difference. “I’m fine, really.” he said, and his faux innocence was so honey sweet that it made Steve even more suspicious if he was quite honest.

“Stand up and do a little walk around the room then.” Steve replied deadpan. This was not, unfortunately, Steve’s first time at this rodeo, either.

“Nah, I’m good, I’ve been teaching all day, and Nat and I did a practice after. I’m pretty tired, I’ve done enough exercise today, Stevie.” he replied, and Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“But I thought you liked proving me wrong, Buck.” Steve said, crossing his arms now and waiting, fixing Bucky with his most intent gaze letting him know this was definitely a direct challenge.

Bucky watched him right back, clearly mulling over the best way to head this off before sighing. “Yeah, alright Stevie.” he relented sighing, standing himself up and Steve could already see that much like he had on previous occasions where he’d got some sort of injury he was trying to ignore or hide, Bucky was favouring one side even as he just stood still - just a slight shift in weight but enough for Steve to notice given how much time he spent watching Bucky anyway.

He moved then, and Steve could immediately see that he was still and the movement was forced, very much unlike his usual fluid motions and steps. It was fairly obvious, even to Steve’s untrained eye what had happened here.

“You’ve pulled something again, haven’t you? And you’re hoping it’ll go away on its own?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow and challenging Bucky to argue with him on this when the flicker on his face already told him that he was right. 

“Yeah, alright, it’s the top of my thigh, but the back this time. I landed something a little wrong and I just felt it… twang, I guess. I’ve taken a bath and I’ve taken some painkillers but they didn’t really help, I just feel kind of woozy and relaxed.” he admitted, pulling a face. “It probably needs a rub and a heat pack, and I swear I’ll go to a masseuse tomorrow or something…” He said.

Steve just sighed already knowing where this was going. “Do you want me to do it?” he asked, knowing that they both knew by now he was good with it - and that Bucky must actually be feeling it to not ask for it - if he was doing it to be a pain in the ass rather than _having_ a pain in his ass, he’d be far, far more upfront in Steve’s experience.

“I… thanks, Stevie.” he said, looking even more pitiful and pouty than before in that moment, accentuating his lower lip in a way that Steve would almost think was deliberate if he didn’t know better. “Where do you want me?” he asked, and Steve thought of all the answers he’d give in a different universe where he was a different person and had actual confidence to answer in a way that could be considered suggestive.

“Er, your room?” he managed instead, knowing that if they did it in his and he could smell Bucky on his sheets later, he’d be doing something far less appropriate and really, that was something he was trying actively not to do anything like that. Not over his not-interested roommate, at least.

They moved through, Bucky still hobbling slightly before collapsing inelegantly face down on his bed and groaning out, before moving to shuffle down the sweat pants he was wearing. Steve, still standing at the foot of the bed, could only stare. 

“I uh…?” He asked, wanting to say he hadn’t expected this - and he really _hadn’t_ expected that but realistically, if Bucky had pulled something in his thigh, Steve guessed he’d have to be able to access the area to try and massage it out. How he hadn’t figured it would involve an up close and personal with Bucky’s very well toned and shapely thighs or knowing _exactly what kind of underwear he was wearing_ , Steve didn’t know.

For reference, they were black, figure hugging, and Steve guessed they had to be that way to look alright under the dance leggings Bucky wore to the studio, but they left _very_ little to the imagination. 

Even if Steve wasn’t gay, he would be forced to admit that Bucky Barnes had a sensational ass. 

And if his ass was sensational, his thighs were something else. 

“Massage oil!” Steve managed, remembering what seemed to help with this and knowing he had some fairly decent lavender scented stuff from when they’d last done this. 

“Thanks, Stevie.” Bucky murmured, not moving from his position as Steve stumbled out of Bucky’s room and back into his own, trying to calm himself the fuck down and get his goddamn mind out of the gutter as he went. 

When he returned, he realized the effort had been futile. Nothing was going to distract him from that, so he might as well get on with it. Moving, Steve seated himself on his knees between Bucky’s legs and for just a little second thought about them being like this with a whole lot less clothes involved and in a very different mood. He pushed _that_ one away pretty quickly, too, for the sake of his own modesty.

“Right, let me…” he said, opening the top, the soft scent of lavender coming to him immediately as he poured a little oil on his fingers, rubbing it just enough to get them well slathered and also to warm the oil gently. 

“Thanks for this again, Stevie.” Bucky murmured and again with the nickname - he really must have taken enough of those painkillers. 

“Thank me when I’m done, perhaps.” he advised gently, before pushing his hands against Bucky’s skin. His thighs were firm and taught, partly muscle and part tension - he was very aware that Bucky hadn’t relaxed into it properly yet. He started by smoothing the oil over the skin, very aware of Bucky’s leg hair and the fact that the shape of him was so very masculine, especially in comparison with Steve’s own short, skinny chicken legs. 

Slowly, he moved in bigger motions, rubbing up and down the backs of Bucky’s thighs, feeling the warmth there and continually reminding himself that this wasn’t some sort of self indulgent excuse to touch up one of his closest friends. No, he had a job to do here. Gently, he increased the pressure, pushing the pads of his fingers down lightly against the skin.

“You can go a little harder than that Stevie, you know.” Bucky murmured, sounding relaxed and content in his position.

“I know.” He said gently, and he did. He’d done this enough times already, after all, glutton for punishment that he was. “I’m just careful because I won’t want to do any more damage than you already have to yourself.” 

Bucky chuckled deep in his throat at that. “Always so considerate.” he replied, just as Steve pushed down on an area in the centre of his thighs making him draw a sharp breath. 

“Don’t want you suing me for damages.” he murmured softly, continuing what he was doing, rubbing gentle but firm circles into the taut flesh, teasing at any areas of tension he felt with the tips of his fingers. 

“Wouldn’t do that – I’m your roommate, I know you teachers don’t make a whole bunch of money.” Bucky hummed softly. “That’s the stuff, Steve. Ugh, have you ever thought about a change of career?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled due to his position. 

“Nah. Whilst this is a fun side line I wouldn’t want to get a RSI - how would I manage my art then? That’ll always be my real love. Well, that and teaching itself anyway.” he replied, their mostly joking conversation a great distraction from all the naked skin he could see below him and the way that Bucky’s muscles reacted to the movements he made - otherwise it would be far too easy to fantasize just a little about other circumstances which could end with them in these positions, and that would probably have some unfortunate and embarrassing consequences. Steve had fought far too long to get his little crush under control and keep it hidden to lose it now over something he had literally volunteered for. He shook his head slightly, glad Bucky couldn’t see him and ask why. Steve had always been a glutton for punishment. 

“I guess.” Bucky replied, his voice already sounding more relaxed than it had when Steve had began. “Oh, yeah, right there.” He said softly as Steve pushed just a touch higher, fingertips brushing the bottoms of Bucky’s underwear as he did.

“I… uh.” He said, his throat going slightly dry at the suggestion. “You want me to… there?” he asked, a little surprised and once again so, so glad that Bucky’s face was essentially smooshed into a pillow because his own was turning beet red and he didn’t want to answer why.

“Yeah, feels like that’s where the pull is.” Bucky replied, and of _course_ it damn well was – it couldn’t be anywhere less suggestive, though Steve supposed it wouldn’t _be_ so suggestive at all if he didn’t have such an enormous crush on the man. He really did only have himself to blame over this. 

Either way, Steve swallowed down any apprehension, and pushed a little harder. Almost immediately, he regretted that decision as Bucky let out a small, soft moan. “Good?” Steve asked softly, now willing the blood to stay in his goddamn face and not travel down south. Either way, he angled his hips, making sure there was absolutely no chance for any accidental contact because that wasn’t going to help him at all. 

“Oh, yeah, Steve. Yeah.” He said, and the relief was palpable, and Steve _knew_ the context, but clearly his brain didn’t, hearing Bucky say those words having been something he’d certainly thought about in his own private time. 

He gently massaged the juncture between Bucky’s thigh and his ass, the fabric of the underwear riding up as he did so, each inch of exposed skin making Steve just a little more uncomfortable because this was almost definitely getting seared into his memory as he went along. He could feel the knots below the surface releasing slightly, and he continued to work there regardless for that reason.

“That’s it.” He said softly, making a plaintive noise as Steve really pushed his fingers into the flesh, feeling his disobedient cock throb slightly fatter with it, imagining very different circumstances where he’d surely be enjoying this far, far more even though he knew very much that he shouldn’t.

“Yeah?” he asked, hating himself and the fact that his voice was just a little breathy, though thankfully Bucky didn’t seem to notice. 

“Yeah.” He replied with some certainty, shifting his hips slightly and letting Steve wonder just for a second if… but no. That couldn’t be the case. Bucky definitely did _not_ think of him like that.

Forcing his thoughts down, Steve instead focussed on the white wall in front of Bucky’s head, trying to be zen and calm or whatever, trying to remember what his Sunday School teacher had told them about what they should do about ‘impure thoughts’ back when his Ma was still alive and he’d gone to church on Sundays because they were Catholic and that’s what they _did_. 

The distraction wasn’t great, but it was enough, and despite knowing he wasn’t exactly soft, Steve managed to finish up what he was doing without further incident, only stopping because his own fingers were staring to cramp from the repeated motion. 

“Right, I think that’s me about done – has it helped?” he asked, and Bucky responded by stretching out his leg and lifting it up and down from his laid down position.

“I… yeah. That’s definitely easier. Can you just rub in some deep heat stuff?” he asked, and Steve nodded, knowing exactly where that would be in Bucky’s bedside drawer and blushing when he realized that whilst reaching his hand brushed what felt like a box of condoms. It was almost like the universe was trying to remind him that it knew exactly what he’d been thinking whilst doing all of this.

Either way, he retrieved the relevant tube and uncapped it, rubbing it in gently, before moving away. 

“There you go. And time for me to wash up.” He added with a grin, because leaving deep heat on your hands was a pretty crappy idea all over.

“Yeah, definitely before you go touching anything. I’ve made that mistake.” Bucky replied, and Steve flushed even harder then because his brain immediately went to a very suggestive place with that, even though there had been no subtext to encourage him to do so.

Clearly, he needed to get over this and get laid.

He definitely needed to stop torturing himself with all of this, that was for sure. 

*****

_[Do you still finish Early on Thursdays?]_

That was the latest message from Bucky on Steve’s phone when he checked it after his final class of the day.

_[Yeah, why?]_

He responded, putting the phone down on his desk and turning to wipe the white board behind him clear before moving around the room and straightening desks and tucking in wonky chairs. If nothing else, he liked his classroom to be clean and ready to use when he did need to. When he was just finishing, he heard it vibrate again.

_[Want a ride home? I’ve got my car, had to bring in props.]_

He replied. Steve weighed it – Bucky’s studio _was_ a lot closer to the school than their apartment was. He glanced at the pile of sketchbooks currently on his desk, each containing a small portfolio of work. It _would_ be a pain in the ass to carry it on the subway, and it had been a long week.

_[That would be great, thanks! Shall I head over?]_

He responded, deciding to ready himself by carefully putting the books into a large bag he’d purchased a couple of years ago for this purpose.  
_  
[Sure, will be practicing with Nat, won’t be long. Let yourself in.]_

Bucky replied, and Steve allowed himself a small smile before doing just that. 

*****

Upon arriving at the studio, Steve used the spare key he’d once been given to let himself in. He could hear the music playing from upstairs, something classical, a recording of a piano playing solo. It was beautiful and melancholy and it stirred something a little sad and lonely inside of Steve. 

He padded up the narrow staircase that led to the practise room, and let himself in through the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb either of the other two.

As he looked up, he was met with the sight of Bucky and Nat moving gracefully together in a complicated looking dance, though the poise and elegance of their movements was what Steve noticed first. His fingers itched to reach for his own sketchbook and get to work, because this was gorgeous.

Their movements were perfectly in time with the music, Natasha transitioning from the peaks of her toes in shoes that Steve knew were specifically made for that purpose, back through to fluid motion, Bucky moving around her almost like they’d been born precisely to do this, almost like they were fully attuned with the music and with each other. 

Steve was struck with Bucky’s obvious strength as he swept Nat off of the ground, her stretching her form out and pointing her toes and looking more like some sort of elfin creature than just a human, and despite the fact that they were in their practise clothes rather than any sort of stage costume, they looked beautiful. Steve could, in that moment, understand what people saw in ballet more than he ever had before.

The music began to rise higher, becoming more atmospheric before reaching a crescendo, after which both dancers swept to a low position, signalling the end of the piece. 

It was then that Steve also realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out, almost surprised that it didn’t break whatever spell they had created over the room. 

“It feels good to do that sometimes, doesn’t it?” Natasha asked, straightening herself back up and giving Bucky a small, satisfied smile like a cat who had managed to successfully catch a bird. 

Bucky nodded, picking up a towel and carefully wiping his forehead before sipping from a bottle of water. “Oh yeah. I mean, I love teaching but…”

“it doesn’t have that same buzz as performing. Perhaps it has been too long since we’ve done a proper performance. I’ll look into it.” She supplied in response and he nodded. “So Steve, as our unwitting audience what did _you_ think?” She asked, casting her gaze up to meet Steve’s own.

“You know I don’t know anything about ballet – or any dance really – but it was impressive.” He said, a smile moving across his face. “I could almost feel it.” He explained, unable to put it into words much more but knowing that their movements and form were etched into his mind and that he very much wanted to sketch it out later at the very least.

Bucky gave him a grin. “You don’t need to understand it as long as it looks good and it makes you feel something. That’s… kind of all you need it to do.” 

“Well, consider it a success, then.” Steve replied, and he nodded. 

“We will. Ugh, right. I’ll just cool myself down and tidy up here if you’re all good, I’ll be about thirty minutes.” He said, and Steve nodded, taking one of the chairs that lined the edge of the studio and sitting himself down. 

“No worries.” He agreed, because even a wait was worth a ride home with his grading in tow. With the background of Natasha and Bucky still bantering with one another as they did whatever they had to do to tidy the space and get it closed down, Steve idly thought about looking at some of that grading, but instead pulled out his own sketchbook, the one that he kept for when he had a wait or inspiration hit and a good sketching pencil and drawing.

His hand moved deftly across the page, first getting the basic shapes down and then starting to add detail. Steve loved working in pencils and sketching, but as the piece came together he found that he wanted to be working with paint more than anything else in the world, his pencil strokes whilst competent and confident missing some sort of essence that putting in the colours and a suggestion of a background might be able to add. Perhaps he’d use this as a quick study and actually do it later – in fact, he would probably have to. There was something… lacking. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it wasn’t irredeemable. He just had to figure out what it was. 

He lost sense of time as he worked, and it was almost a surprise when he realized that Bucky was looking over him and over his page. “Hey, did you seriously do that whilst we were cooling down?” he asked, clearly a little surprised, and Steve started up before looking the thing over. 

“Yeah.” He replied before sighing. “It’s missing something, though.”

“Shit.” He murmured, his tone admiring. “You make us look better than we do naturally.” He teased softly, and Steve couldn’t help but to blush.

“Only drew what I could see, Buck. Or tried to. I think you think it’s better than I do.” He murmured softly, brushing off the compliment.

“Well, if you say so.” He said softly, almost like he was in awe of what Steve had managed to do. “Anyway, come on. Let’s get ourselves home, no doubt you’ve got a crap load of work to do you haven’t done in school time.” He said.

“Always.” Steve agreed with a sigh, glancing at the bag full he had and carefully tucking his sketchbook and pencil away.

*****

A few days later it was finally the weekend, and still unable to get the mental image of that dance routine out of his head, Steve had managed to make a couple more of Bucky’s classes and Natasha’s too, drawing studies of them in motion and practising diligently. Thankfully neither seemed to mind his intrusion, and in Bucky’s case he almost seemed to revel in it, catching Steve’s eye more than once per session. Steve didn’t think much of it, honestly, wrapped up in his work as he was.

But now it was Saturday, and he was going to put those studies to good use – or try to. They were still missing that unquantifiable _something_. He’d gotten himself a canvas and had set it up in the corner of their living room closest to the big window to give him the right kind of light, getting himself a chair and some paints and getting to work. First he blocked everything out, getting the shapes and positions just so, and then he started to sketch in the figures before the detail.

Lost in his own world Steve worked, entirely surprised when he heard Bucky finally surface. 

“Ah.” He said, coming up behind Steve to see what he was working on. “Back to this image, huh?” he asked quietly, and Steve nodded before sighing in mild frustration.

“Yeah, but something about it still feels _missing_ , like it did when I was sketching in your studio. I just don’t know _exactly_ what the problem is.” He admitted, sighing and tilting his head as if a new angle would make any difference at all. 

Bucky studied for a moment, putting a hand up and scrubbing through his hair as he thought. “I think I know what it is. Not that I know anything about art, but…” He said slowly. “You’re kind of missing the movement. And I think it’s because it’s a really particular…” he paused, before focussing on Steve again. “You wanna trust me on something, Stevie?” he asked.

Steve glanced over and raised an eyebrow. “You know I trust you, Buck.” He replied, wondering what on earth this great idea was that he was having that he clearly thought on some level Steve wouldn’t be keen on. Regardless, Steve knew already that Bucky had called him Stevie again, and that little pet name was a one way ticket to him doing whatever Bucky wanted.

“I’m gonna teach you to dance. Just a little.” He added, watching Steve’s eyebrows raise. “But enough that you understand the hold of the muscles and the discipline. I think it’ll help.” He explained.

Steve looked at him like he might have lost the plot. “Buck, I can’t dance. For one thing, I’ve got no muscle tone, and for another, my back’s all twisted up – you know that, and…”  
Bucky waved his hand in a motion that could best be translated as ‘meh’. “You think the little tiny kids in my Tiny Tots classes have got any of that? What about my Silver Swans?” he asked, raising an eyebrow challengingly – and Steve Rogers had _never_ been able to back down to a challenge.

“Alright, alright. But when I’m awful, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He replied shaking his head, and Bucky beamed, clearly knowing he’d won.

*****

Once they were in the studio, Bucky put his stuff down at the side of the room and gave Steve a nod to do the same. 

“So first thing, we need to find you some shoes, now I think we have some of Nat’s that will fit, you’re probably about the same size – don’t look at me like that, it’s Nat, they’re black not pink so you don’t gotta worry about that – and then I’ll run you through a few basic stretches to start. Not that I’d mind giving you a massage but you’d probably prefer to avoid the pulls, They’re nasty.” He said, going to a storage cupboard and rummaging around for a few seconds before reappearing with a pair of ballet shoes in his hand which he tossed across to Steve. “Give ‘em a try.” He said, and Steve, for lack of anything better to do, did just that, flushing slightly when they _did_ fit.

They felt incredibly thin and flimsy, all soft black leather with two thicker pads on the bottom but no sole to speak of, and a couple of thin bands of matching black elastic securing them properly around the ankle. Steve figured in that moment that they weren’t exactly built for support but instead for not impeding movement. 

“Alright, they seem pretty good.” He said, and Bucky shook his head coming over to check, gently kneeling in front of Steve and taking one of his feet and feeling around the fit of the shoe before nodding.

“Actually, yeah.” He agreed with a small satisfied smile. “Right, that’s good.” He said, before actually sitting down to put his own on which matched the same look pretty well, albeit much more worn-in looking than Steve’s borrowed pair.

When he was done, he stood up. “Okay, I’m going to run you through a basic exercise now to warm you up and move the muscles you’re likely to use – don’t want any pulls, but I’d probably advise you take a good long shower, or better still a bath, when we are done. It’s especially important the first few times.” He explained, and Steve nodded, because he could see the merit in that despite not being the most naturally athletic or doing any real amount of sport at all. 

“Alright.” He agreed and Bucky nodded.

“So, just follow what I do. I’ll face you, but don’t do opposites, just mirror me.” He explained and Steve was relieved as he focused on Bucky’s form, pushing his heels together so he stood in a ‘V’ shape both arms relaxed but fingers pointed and curved in front of him. 

“So, this is first position for your feet.” Bucky told him. “So, try and keep your legs nice and straight and kind of imagine you have a corset on, it’ll hold you up straight.” He said, and Steve tried to move into the position, feeling a flush of pleasure when Bucky nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“And bend gently…” he said demonstrating, and this felt like a million miles from the stuff that he and Natasha had been doing, and in it’s own way it was kind of fascinating to see the earliest stages of learning to dance from a first hand perspective. “This is a plié.” He added, and Steve nodded, already feeling his thighs shaking just from that. 

“Feeling it already, huh?” Bucky murmured, a small smirk on his lips. “Don’t worry about it, everybody does. You gotta remind yourself that what you see me and Nat do, it’s the culmination of years of practise. We did the whole Russian ballet school thing, we’ve done shows, and now with this place… practise would still make perfect if it was something you wanted to keep up.” He said, rising back to a standing position with Steve following, relieved. 

“I don’t think I will be, Buck.” Steve replied with a small smile.

“You’d be surprised, a lot of people tell me it’s relaxing, as well as being a damn good workout. Alright, now push your foot out to the side, point your toes as you go – be careful not to cramp your foot.” He instructed, doing the movement slowly for Steve to follow which he did. 

“Right, it’s that posture again.” Bucky reminded. “Pull yourself up – imagine you’re holding a marble in your belly button, and a fifty buck note between your butt cheeks that you gotta hold or lose it.” He said, and Steve tried, he really did – but it wasn’t quite there. 

“Alright, hang on, hold yourself there for me?” Bucky was saying then, and he was in Steve’s space, one hand spread across his lower stomach and one on his lower back where his T shirt and sweatpants met, and he was pressing the both. He was so close Steve could smell the apple flavoured shampoo and conditioner that he knew Bucky liked, and just a hint of his aftershave with an undertone of that pure _Bucky_ smell. The warmth of his hand was very evident too, and it probably should have been more enjoyable, except for the way he was correcting Steve’s apparently ailing posture and…

“Shit.” He said, eyes widening as he felt his core pull and muscles he hadn’t used in some time (alright, alright, hadn’t realized he _had_ ) getting some work. 

“Yeah. That means you’re doing it right. It’ll take a couple of go’s before holding yourself like that becomes a habit, but when it does you know you’re on the right track. But don’t worry, Stevie, I’ll keep reminding you.” He said with a small smirk to which Steve rolled his eyes before he moved away, going back to his former position for Steve to copy what he was doing once more, all the while continuing to commentate on proceedings. 

They went on like this for some time, Bucky continuing to come back over and physically correct Steve where needed, always gently and firmly and apparently entirely oblivious to the effect he was having on Steve. He wondered idly for a few moments if Bucky did this with all his students, but supposed he must. Why would he be giving any special treatment to Steve?

For his part, Steve was surprised when he was able to hold one of the bars that lined the edge of the room and complete a set of movements in time with a piano track Bucky put on, and was more surprised again when the door to the studio opened. 

“Ah. I’ve walked in on a beginner’s private class, I see.” Came Natasha’s voice, a slightly bemused expression on her lips as she looked over the scene. “I never pegged you down for the type to want to try.” 

“It’s in the name of art. My sketches of you guys just weren’t… they were lacking something.” He explained, moving away from the bar he’d been holding somewhat guiltily. 

Nat fixed him with her cat-like stare before nodding. “I see.” She said, and Steve felt – as he often did with Natasha – that she was seeing something else within the situation that nobody else in the room was party to. The feeling wasn’t exactly helped by the fact that she turned to Bucky then and said something in Russian, him responding immediately, and eye-rolling about whatever Natasha’s retort was.

“Well Steve, as first lesson’s go… I mean, not the worst I’ve seen. Not exactly the best either, but a solid effort.” Bucky informed him, a teasing grin on his lips before he moved and put his lips around the neck of a water bottle to take a drink. 

“Thanks. I think.” He replied, rolling his eyes. 

“Watch out for the muscle soreness.” Natasha reminded softly, looking him over, before muttering something else in Russian which Bucky just sighed at. Steve wondered idly, and not for the first time, how long it would take him to reach any sort of proficiency to know what they were saying. 

“I will.” He replied regardless, nodding, and he _would_ too, Steve was stubborn but not completely reckless, and he didn’t trust his body enough not to rebel completely at even the suggestion of exercise.

“Good.” She agreed. “Anyway, can you two clear out? In case you’d forgotten, James, I have a private student of my own due in the next ten minutes.” She said and he nodded.

“Hadn’t forgotten Nat, don’t worry. Come on Steve, let’s head home. Better still, let’s get lunch along the way.” He said and Steve nodded, knowing that if they were anywhere near here they’d be heading to Bucky’s favourite hole-in-the-wall sandwich place, but that didn’t worry him – Steve loved the place, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in terms of notes: 
> 
> 1\. Nat and Bucky speaking Russian in this fic is because Russian speaking Bucky is one of my favourite Bucky's.  
> 2\. The pulled muscle is because when I was writing this, this actually happened to me post ballet-session, but I've got to tell you, my resolution was nowhere near as pain free as Bucky's seems to be! Either way, it became inspo for that moment! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this one <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we have reached the final, smutty conclusion.
> 
> As a fair warning, this one contains unprotected sex. It's all consensual, but if that's an issue for you, please don't read it!
> 
> Also also, if anyone has asks, wants to feed me more prompts or reach me generally, feel free to head over to my Tumblr, oh-I-swear-writes! I love hearing from you guys! ❤️

Thankfully, Steve only had the mildest of muscle ache from his first foray into ballet. “That clearly means I didn’t work you hard enough and we gotta try again.” Bucky replied the next morning when he checked in with Steve to see how things were. Steve had scoffed in response and murmured that he might.

Unfortunately, Bucky had taken that light response seriously.

That was how Steve found himself back in the studio one evening during the week meeting Bucky when he was done with his last class of the day, moving through the steps he’d learned the last time, with Bucky still carefully correcting his posture and adjusting his legs to make sure he was stretching and holding the positions correctly. Steve could see even from this how and why Bucky’s classes were so popular – the amount that he clearly enjoyed demonstrating and instructing were obvious to anyone, and his instruction came carefully and clear, and was kindly delivered. 

Right now, Bucky was right behind Steve, hands on his hipbones, readjusting the line between his back and his pelvis, pointing to the mirrored wall in front of them to explain carefully, mouth surprisingly close to Steve’s ear given their obvious height difference. If Steve didn’t have the practice he did at denying his own urges when it came to Bucky, this proximity and the intimacy behind it would likely make him shiver, especially with that delicious Bucky smell overriding so many of his better senses. 

“…And push your foot out, that’s it, pay attention to your angle and lean forward arm loose…” Bucky was saying now, gently guiding Steve’s body, and he could feel his warmth. He could feel his muscular form against his own, and when he looked up, their eyes met in the mirror, and Steve realized something had changed and they were both frozen in place, bodies pressed together.

Bucky blinked a couple of times then, moving slightly to allow Steve to move by himself. “You know, you’re improving already.” He said softly and there was something playing on his face, an expression that Steve wasn’t quite sure he’d seen before and couldn’t quite figure the emotion behind.

“Now I think you’re just being sweet on me.” Steve replied, rolling his eyes as he repeated the movement as directed, getting a nod in response from Bucky.

“Perhaps I am.” He murmured, and with his dodgy ear, Steve thought that _was_ what he said, but then decided that he must have misheard, especially when Bucky cleared his throat and spoke again. “Right, so let’s put that all together, I’ll do it along with you, then that should be enough for today.” 

Steve nodded, looking up at him again, his eyes meeting Bucky’s, who then moved and reset the music, which started to come through the speakers near the ceiling of the room. Steve managed to wobble his way through, just slightly out of time, following Bucky as much as his own memory which was good, but of course he’d never tried memorizing dance moves before. 

He did surprise himself though, getting through the whole thing with no major issues and actually feeling perhaps just a little touch proud when he did finish, and in the correct position no less.

He looked up when, and Bucky was practically beaming. “You know what, Rogers? Never tell me you can’t dance again – you’ll be making a liar of yourself.” He said and Steve couldn’t do much but blush and look down bashfully.

“Ain’t got nothing on you, Buck.” He replied, and Bucky laughed a bit.

“Ain’t got twenty plus years of practise behind you, either. Come on, come over here, I’ll give your shoulders and your thighs a rub, make sure you’ve not done anything. You probably know by how it feels, but we did a lot more today than last time.” He said gently and Steve nodded, already quite sure he’d be grateful of it when tomorrow came.

“Stand at the barre, it’s the best place to make sure your back is straight in here.” He said lightly, before immediately his large warm hands were on Steve’s shoulders through the T shirt of his material. “Same rules apply for me as when you do this – anything doesn’t feel good, you gotta tell me right away.” He said lightly, thumbs already moving in rhythmic circles into Steve’s shoulder blades.

“Will do.” He replied, almost talking as a distraction from the fact that this time, Bucky’s hands were on _him_ rather than the other way around. 

Bucky stayed right at the top, in the meat (or what there was of meat) in Steve’s shoulder, circling in a firm circular pattern for a few moments, before slipping lower, slightly under the blade and digging in to the softer flesh there. Steve hadn’t realized that he was tense there, but he was, letting out a soft gasp as something there released.

“Feel good?” Bucky’s voice came, slightly rougher than Steve would expect. He glanced up then, their eyes meeting in the mirror. 

“Yeah.” He said lightly, another small gasp coming from him as Bucky did something else that just felt good. 

“Good.” Bucky murmured, his fingers beginning a dance of their own working down his spine and determinedly finding all the little knots that Steve hadn’t even realized were forming. “Now you see why I like this so much, huh?” he asked gently.

“Mmm, I really do.” He replied, very aware that they still had full eye contact now, Bucky’s hands finding purchase by touch alone. They were lower again now, near Steve’s waist, fingers ghosting over the fabric which brushed against Steve’s flesh in turn, goose pimples appearing embarrassingly over his arm. He tried to will his own body not to react any more than it was, he’d been ignoring the way he felt for it to come undone now, especially over something so stupid and unnecessary.

Bucky’s hands had moved again though, on his lower back now, where the worst of the curve to his spine was. Steve was half prepared for this to be uncomfortable, but Bucky’s hands were as gentle as they were firm and instead of hissing in pain, Steve found himself making an embarrassing squeak, scrunching his eyes closed to his the indignity of it, finally breaking that eye contact between them.

“Ain’t gotta be embarrassed, Stevie.” Bucky said softly, and Steve was sure it was his overactive imagination (he _was_ an artist, after all) but Bucky’s voice felt more like warm sugar than it usually did, a tone or two deeper than normal. “Shouldn’t be embarrassed if something feels good.” 

Steve’s eyes snapped open then, feeling far too _seen_ in that sentence – but Bucky couldn’t _know_. He couldn’t. If he did, he wouldn’t tease Steve, he was too good a man for that, he wouldn’t want Steve thinking of him that way. But still his hands were moving, and Steve could feel how close he was again from the warmth radiating off of his body to Steve’s own, radiating through Steve and spreading through him in a way that should be delicious if it wasn’t so forbidden.

“Buck.” He said softly, almost a warning. And it _was_ a warning, Steve realized then. He was warning Bucky not to push this, not to do anything that might dislodge the fragile walls that Steve had built to protect himself from the depth of his own feelings. His eyes met Bucky’s again, and he still had a very strange expression on his face. 

“Steve.” He replied, before glancing down in the mirror reflection down towards Steve’s crotch. Which… oh _fuck_ , his body had already betrayed him, and the baggy sweatpants he was wearing were doing absolutely nothing to hide the indignity, creating a very obvious peak to the front.

“Buck, I….” Steve said, immediately pulling out of his friend’s grip, icy fear spreading through his veins and replacing the glorious warmth almost immediately – if only his dick could get the goddamn message and not be tenting his pants. “I can explain…” He started, but then Bucky changed their positions again, crowding Steve in close against the barre, trapping him between the metal and his own body, the heat there again, and Steve letting out a small noise halfway thinking that Bucky might be about to give him a black eye. Ah well, wouldn’t be his first.

“Is that for me?” Bucky was asking, one hand dropping to Steve’s skinny hip, circling it in his large hand as he looked Steve over… and were his eyes lust blown? No, they couldn’t be… “Because if it isn’t, how much I want it to be is kind of embarrassing.” 

Steve froze then, looking Bucky over because did he just say that…? 

Yes, yes he did.

“Are you shitting me right now?” Steve asked, and Bucky shook his head.

“No shit, Steve. What can I say? Got me a thing for spitfire blonds and been looking for an excuse to get my hands all over you.” He admitted, his voice low and enticing as he spoke now.

Steve made a frustrated noise, and pulled Bucky down, pressing their mouths together in what probably constituted the world’s messiest kiss to date. The angle was wrong, their height different was awkward with Steve clinging to Bucky’s neck and dragging him down and to top it all off their teeth clacked together. 

But the thing was; it didn’t matter. Not one bit.

Bucky made a noise like a man in pain, adjusting them and tilting his head to the side before Steve took back the lead, opening his mouth and brushing his tongue against Bucky’s lips and simultaneously blowing his goddamn mind because _how long had he wanted this?_ Things like this did not normally happen to guys like Steve Rogers.

He moaned softly on realisation, Bucky wrapping his large arms around Steve and pulling their bodies closer, pressing together. Whilst it was far further up his torso, Steve could feel Bucky’s own hardness now too, and yeah, this definitely wasn’t a joke.

The kiss was still somehow getting deeper and hotter, both of them panting into it now as they alternated between messy soft kisses and deeper movement. 

“You ain’t got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this to you, Stevie. I thought you must’ve known – you know, with me getting you to massage me all the time, how much we hang out together, but I didn’t think you-“ Bucky was saying now, mouth trailing onto Steve’s neck, pressing hot, wet kisses there too as a hand slid around cupping his ass through his sweatpants. 

“I thought you must have known _I_ wanted to – shit, Buck, can’t hardly keep it to myself.” He said quietly, eyes fluttering closed as Bucky’s mouth pressed against his skin. 

“We’ve been fucking idiots.” Bucky said biting softly on Steve’s shoulder and drawing a groan, and it wasn’t a question. It didn’t need to be.

“Ugh, we have, so we’re saying we could have been…” Steve said softly, his own hands gripping onto Bucky’s muscular shoulders because he could touch all of this now without excuse, apparently. It had been so long of wanting to that it hardly seemed real. 

“Yeah.” Bucky agreed softly, hands moving up now and slipping under Steve’s shirt and making him gasp anew, fingers touching flesh now and adding more goose bumps to what he already had. 

“So now we should…” Steve started, attaching his own mouth to Bucky’s neck now and shivering when the man moaned at what he was doing, taking a second to glance at one of the mirrors that surrounded them whilst they moved against one another. It was… quite a sight. One that Steve definitely wanted to sketch at some point but that wasn’t a problem for now.

“ _Yeah_.” Bucky agreed emphatically, and really, it shouldn’t be possible to put so much raw emotion into one word, and yet Bucky had managed. 

“Here?” Steve asked, realizing that despite the fact that he was nearly a clear foot shorter than his friend (lover? Were they that now or was this a one off? Fuck, Steve wasn’t sure he could worry about that now) he had just as much power in this situation as the other man. 

“Yes, Steve, all of it.” He replied, his voice entirely rough and affectionate and then he was kissing Steve again and he was kissing deeply, tangling their tongues in an intricate dance of their own, far beyond anything Steve could ever hope to manage dancing ballet. It was far better, in his opinion, than any ballet dance. 

“Oh Buck.” He whispered in response, moaning softly and pushing his own hands around and onto Bucky’s ass, teasing the exposed skin softly between his leggings and the loose shirt he wore. He watched in the mirror, seeing his own movements, and Bucky’s reaction as he tenderly tucked his head into Steve’s neck, pressing a few kisses there, almost too soft and sweet for the situation at hand, but somehow all the more perfect because of it.

“Steve. _Steve_.” he gasped out, his breath hot on Steve’s sensitive skin. “D’you… can you fuck me?” he asked softly, and Steve groaned out, the air coming out of his lungs as if punched, him unable to hide the sound. 

He gently rolled his hips against Bucky’s thigh, shuddering and gasping out. “You really want… _that?_ ” he asked, because he was still far shorter than Bucky and convention dictated that it should be the other way around. 

“Most guys won’t – they see me, they see muscle and height… Figure none of that’ll matter to you.” He admitted softly, looking at Steve under lowered lashes which were _far_ longer and more obvious being dark than Steve’s own. Steve could see the _need_ in his facial expression, the vulnerability. He could definitely take care of this, size be damned.

“Oh baby, I’ll look after you.” He agreed gently, wriggling out of Bucky’s arms, and apparently they were doing this right now and apparently they were doing it _here_ in Bucky’s studio. Usually, Steve wouldn’t move so fast, but usually he wouldn’t be fucking his best friend. This… this was fine. Bucky was more than fine. He was perfect and everything Steve had wanted for so long.

Bucky nodded then. “I know.” He agreed quietly, and his hands were right down Steve’s pants then, touching any skin they could, moving around to his hard cock and teasing down onto the fine blond hair on his balls. Unable to do anything but, Steve gasped out, giving a moan of Bucky’s name and tightening his grip on the man.

“Come on Stevie… do me good. I’ll hold the barre but in here I’m still gonna be able to see you.” He promised softly, shedding his own clothes now, first shucking his shirt over his head, and then slipping down those leggings as if they weren’t skin tight, leaving him in the same sort of underwear he’d been wearing when Steve had last given him a massage. 

“Shit, Buck.” He gasped softly, looking over the scene before him. 

“Clothes off, Stevie.” He said in response, voice low and dark, slipping Steve’s own shirt off before he had chance to argue, and looking at Steve’s skinny body like it was Bucky’s toned, bronzed torso rather than his own. Steve could see them both in that mirror, and they didn’t compare. Distantly, he suddenly realized what Bucky had been saying - he’d be able to see everything in that, and his cock throbbed, Bucky noticing and making a small noise of recognition… or want. 

Fuck. 

Bucky _wanted_ him. 

Steve had no idea why, even when he was fantasising about just this he’d never seriously dared to think it might actually come to everything, but here they were, and Bucky was real and here and mostly naked.

Bucky was standing in his underwear now, turned away from Steve – and when had that happened? – holding the barre, and looking at them both through the mirror steely blue eyes meeting Steve’s own gaze, looking sure and turned on and imploring.

“You gonna get those pants off, Stevie?” he asked, panting still, mouth red, wet with spit and debauched and _fuck_ even Steve’s best fantasies hadn’t had anything on this. 

“You want that, Buck?” he asked softly, slipping easily into his own affectionate nickname for the man without having realized he was doing that for most of… whatever this was anyway. 

“I want you.” He said softly and certainly, and that – that was _all_ Steve needed. He let out a plaintive noise, before allowing his sweat pants to pool at his feet, stepping out of them and pushing his cock against Bucky’s clothed ass, feeling that firm tautness he had there from muscle beneath his skin with only the fabric of their underwear between them. 

“Want you too. But you can feel that.” He murmured softly, pressing kisses all over the exposed skin of Bucky’s back feeling the muscular tone just beneath the skin, running hands over his hips before pushing his thumbs below the waistband of Bucky’s underwear.

“Do it.” Bucky said gently, and Steve did, pushing the fabric down, inching it over Bucky’s flushed and hard cock which was standing proud to attention and not much thicker than Steve’s, but definitely longer. In that moment, Steve knew that in the future he wanted that in him _so_ bad, but that wasn’t a problem for right now.

Steve gasped softly, meeting Bucky’s eyes again in that goddamn sinful mirror. “Oh Buck.” He said gently, voice thick with reverence. “You’re so beautiful. Whaddya want with a skinny little guy with me?” he asked, allowing his hands to wander over Bucky’s thick thighs, his toned abs.

“Everything, Stevie. Because that’s it: you’re Steve. And I want you. Would’ve told you before, but didn’t want you thinking I was taking advantage.” He murmured softly. “Nat’s been telling me for ages – especially when she found us here – we should’ve been doing this anyway.” He said, voice breathy and aroused and so full of lust that Steve would have been entirely fucked if he wasn’t already. 

Something came to Steve then, though, and he had to ask. “Is that what you two’ve been talking about in Russian?” he asked, nibbling slightly on Bucky’s neck and flushing with pride at the man’s reaction when he gasped and moaned and Steve could see in the mirror that his cock jumped. 

“Yeah. God, yeah, Stevie – she’s been telling me for months to pull my head outta my ass and get down to business with you. Guess she was right, huh?” he asked lightly, moaning as Steve wrapped a fist around his cock and gently pumped once. 

“She was right.” He confirmed, because what else could he do? “How do you wanna?” 

“God, Steve, I want everything. Want you on your knees, want to _be_ on my knees… but right now we got mirrors. Wanna watch everything.” He said softly, his voice clearly wrecked already, and Steve had done very little to nothing yet. Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s in the mirror then, his hips still pushing back against Steve’s crotch, causing him to push forward a little and groan. “I want to feel you, Steve. In case this is a dream or you don’t really mean it.” He replied.

“I do. I mean all of it, Buck. Want you so bad. _Have_ wanted you so bad.” Steve reassured him, smoothing his hair gently again ignoring the size difference and rolling his hips almost like reassurance building to an insistent rhythm quickly and easily,. 

Bucky nodded, reaching one hand around and taking one of Steve’s, lacing their fingers and squeezing. “Want you to fuck me, Steve. Here. Against the barre. So I’ll always think of that when I’m here.” He answered and how Steve didn’t come right then and there, he had no idea whatsoever because that idea was _hot_.

“We ain’t got lube, Buck. Or condoms.” He said softly, common sense prevailing.

“I got vaseline, Stevie, s’good for when your ballet shoes rub. Ain’t got condoms, but m’clean.” He murmured, clearly very gone and really, Steve knew he should be the voice of reason, but he just _couldn’t_. Not when faced with that. Not after so long of denying himself and thinking this wasn’t a possibility.

“I’m clean too.” Steve agreed softly, knowing this would usually class as irresponsible, and it probably was – but this was _Bucky_.  
Bucky moved again then, standing facing the barre and bracing his hands against it, gloriously and beautifully naked, legs slightly spread apart waiting for Steve to get the jelly and come back. Steve stumbled across to his kit bag, grabbing the familiar jar and coming back, pressing a kiss to the man’s warm skin to let him know, though it was unnecessary because in those mirrors Bucky had watched Steve’s every move.

Steve coated his first finger, before putting a hand on Bucky’s hip steadying him though there wasn’t really any need. He pressed the digit slowly to Bucky’s hole, circling it with the pad, teasing gently. Bucky made a soft noise, watching Steve’s every move in that mirror, and Steve was suddenly more aware of the acoustics of the room, the high ceilings of the studio amplifying every noise they made. God, it did things for him. 

Pushing harder then, Steve’s finger slowly began to breach the ring of muscle, drawing soft gasps and moans from the other man, gradually nudging in further until he was up to the knuckle.

“I’m gonna need more, Stevie.” He gasped softly, and looking in the mirror himself rather than at what his fingers were doing, Steve found Bucky watching him intently, lips bitten and red, looking gloriously debauched spread in front of Steve. 

In response, Steve pressed a kiss against Bucky’s back, pulling the finger back out and grinding his hips just for a second against Bucky when the man moaned out at the loss. He coated the next two fingers, deciding that preparation was the best idea here, before slowly working in the second finger.

Once he was all the way in, he gently crooked them, feeling around for a few seconds, fumbling just a little before Bucky made another deep, guttural sound and _yeah_ , Steve knew he’d found that spot. He pushed in again, crooking that angle one more and watched as Bucky gripped that barre tighter, moaning out a litany of gasps, groans and Steve’s goddamn name, and the sound of this if nothing else was going to be burned into his brain forever.

When Bucky felt looser still, Steve began to work with the third finger too, gradually spreading, getting the man ready for what was coming next, unable to stop the movement of his own hips now, pressing against one of Bucky’s thighs, aware the pre come was already leaking from the tip of his cock, dampening the front of his underwear, the light blue going darker just there. 

“This is what you do to me, Buck. You’re gorgeous.” He said, aware his own voice was low, arguably lower than the voice of a man of his stature had any right to be, stepping just to the side enough that Bucky would be able to see the damage done to the fabric.

“Oh Stevie.” Bucky gasped out, watching. “Now. Please.” He said softly, meeting Steve’s eyes again, that even more expressive than his words were. 

“Yeah, yeah Buck.” He agreed, using his spare hand to push down his underwear fully, stepping out of them in the way he had done to his sweat pants earlier on. 

Taking a decent amount of the Vaseline from the jar, Steve wrapped a hand around his cock, groaning out at the pressure he’d so desperately needed, hips sputtering slightly at the contact. He could feel Bucky watching him through the mirrors and the fact of that was more arousing than Steve had ever anticipated.

When he was done, their eyes met again, and Bucky nodded slightly. “Do it, Steve.” He gasped out gently and Steve watched as Bucky did something else he hadn’t expected – he slid on his ballet slippers – which were impossibly still on – lowering his hips to make the position entirely workable for Steve. 

Spread out in front of him like that, Bucky himself _was_ art. The man was beautiful, and exposing himself in this way to Steve, with those thighs holding him up like that… wow. Steve had never seen anything so beautiful. 

Inching his hips forward Steve lined himself up, and then gradually, carefully pushed himself in, breaching the ring of muscle and feeling the delicious heat of Bucky’s body around him as he did, both of them panting and moaning, the sounds almost echoing around them in the room as they did. 

When he finally got himself in to the hilt, he looked up, moaning out softly at the sight in front of him, watching Bucky look at the same thing.

“Stevie, this is great and all, but _move_.” He implored pushing back encouraging, and that was all Steve needed, pulling back before pushing back in, starting gentle and shallow but building to a rhythm quickly. 

He watched as he did, unable to take his eyes off the sight in front of him, watching the way Bucky’s eyes rolled in his head and he bit his lip and sweat started to sparkle on the miles of skin on show. He could hear the sounds of it all, both men moaning out, especially when Steve watched himself reach around, wrapping his hand around Bucky’s cock in turn, it being still somewhat slick with the Vaseline, and begin to pump.

“Fuck Stevie, you do this and it ain’t gonna last long.” He moaned out, eyes wide open and locking with Steve’s one more, and Steve had never considered eye contact to be erotic before, but Steve had been very, very wrong on that fact. It was everything he hadn’t known he wanted. 

“It’s alright Buck, I can’t-“ he managed, feeling his own floppy fringe start to stick to his forehead now, and that tingling at the base of his spine as his balls drew closer to his body. 

“Come for me, Steve. Come _in_ me.” He asked, and Steve could feel his dick pulsing hot in his hand, and he managed one final push into Bucky, aiming with his hips for that same place his fingers had been able to reach, knowing he managed from the broken howl Bucky let out, before moving his hand and stroking faster because Steve was gone – he _wouldn’t_ have been able to hold back his orgasm any longer no matter what he tried. 

Even whilst his brain was pretty far offline, seeing literal stars from how hard he actually came deep inside of his best friend’s body he realized then that Bucky was moaning, tightening around him too and he opened his eyes just in time to watch Bucky’s cock jerk twice more in his hand before he was coming too in a glorious arc, spilling onto the wooden floor of the studio.

Steve all but collapsed forward then, Bucky taking the weight as if it was nothing, still gripping the barre like his life depended on it. 

“Fuck, Steve.” Bucky breathed eventually, breaking their not-so-silent-panting-filled silence. “Jesus. Never would’a thought…” and then he was laughing and smiling.

Steve winced, feeling himself begin to soften and slip from his position buried deep inside of Bucky, pulling out gingerly before this got embarrassing. “Me neither.” He agreed softly. 

Watching as some of his own come dripped from Bucky’s ass down his thigh, Steve felt his mouth go dry in realisation, but before he could panic properly, Bucky was turning to face him and leaning down to press the softest kiss on Steve’s lips, completely at odds with what had just passed between them.

“Wanted to for so long.” He said, lips still brushing against Steve’s as he spoke. 

“Me too.” Steve admitted quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to the edge of Bucky’s lips, looking into his eyes. 

“How about we clean up a little, go home and talk about what we do about this now?” He asked lightly and Steve couldn’t help but grin – whilst he had plenty of insecurities mostly relating to his height and stature, he was still a little shit when it came down to it. 

“You mean it’s not a given we do this again?” He asked softly and Bucky laughed. 

“No, Steve, that’s definitely a given, so long as you wanna.” He replied, running a hand up and down Steve’s side.

“I wanna.” He agreed.

“Come on then, punk.” Bucky replied, laughing. 

“Jerk.” Steve replied out of habit, and maybe this could work out pretty well. Maybe. 

Bucky laughed a bit then, giving one more kiss before moving back, picking up his own shirt to clean himself up, as well as the puddle on the floor, pulling his underwear and leggings back on before putting just his hoodie over his torso as if this was all nothing and they hadn’t just fucked in his goddamn workplace. Jesus, this man would be the death of Steve.

*****

Later that evening, they were laid in Bucky’s bed tangled together. They hadn’t exactly discussed what any of this meant for their friendship but by the fact that Steve hadn’t been out of reaching distance from Bucky since then, he figured they were going to be just fine. 

It was then that Bucky’s phone beeped, and he picked it up. “Fuck.” He muttered, shaking his head and then laughing.

“What?” Steve asked softly, angling himself so he could see what was happening on the screen.

“Nat has sent me a reminder that I need to clean the studio properly tomorrow. How does she even…?” he asked, shaking his head.

Steve knew he should be embarrassed, and he could feel a slight heat to his cheeks. “I don’t think we want to know.” He said softly. 

“We don’t.” Bucky agreed. “Now come here and let me blow you before we sleep. I got classes in the morning, and you’ve got school.” He pointed out and Steve smiled, the implication that they would sleep here together warming through him.

“Well, seeing as you asked so nicely…” he replied, laughing a bit and detangling them just enough he could move.

“I’ve wanted you too long to let you go now, Stevie.” Bucky murmured, lips already going to Steve’s jaw, warm, soft and affectionate.

“Don’t want you to. You’re stuck with me now.” Steve replied, running hands up and over Bucky’s chest, loving the feel of them pressed together and the safety and comfort of this position.

“I mean it. This is ‘til the end of the line.” Bucky replied softly, lips just below Steve’s ear now, making him shudder.

“Til the end of the line.” He agreed, melting into Bucky’s affectionate movements and deciding they could deal with Nat and everything else later. He’d wanted this far too long to deny himself it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you've all enjoyed this, and massive thanks again to Kel for a prompt that accidentally turned into this crazy monster of a fic, rather than the ficlet it probably should have been! Either way, I had a lot of fun with it, and once I had the idea of mirror sex... well.
> 
> Thanks to al for the comments, kudos and love <3


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